The Bad Boy's Baby (Hope Springs) (9 page)

Emma knew that, she did. Yes, she still experienced the occasional sting of rejection from both of her parents basically running away from her the second they could, and it would’ve been nice if Mom had come to town for more than a week or two since Zoey was born, but she could tell that Mom was happy living on the West Coast. Whenever she came back to Hope Springs, she went stir-crazy, and she’d once remarked that she wished Emma had learned from her mistake instead of repeated it.

The day she’d said it, Emma renewed her resolve to do things differently than Mom had. To prove that she could follow her dreams, unexpected pregnancy or not, and still make Zoey feel wanted. Which was why she’d worked so hard to finish her degree, and why she’d put her heart and soul into designing the Mountain Ridge cabins.

So that instead of being the girl who
had
so much potential—the girl who took classes with upperclassmen in high school and was first in her college classes—she would surpass what people thought she could achieve.

As much as she hated to admit it, Grandma had a point. She needed to keep her focus so she wouldn’t end up with regrets or—as Grandma so nicely put it—going a little nutso. “No more excuses, I promise. Architecture firm or bust.”

Which probably meant she needed to push away the visions of her, Cam, and Zoey being the kind of family who spent Sunday afternoons at the park. And she should definitely forget about the ones of putting Zoey to bed and then kissing and cuddling with Cam on the couch.

Or better yet, kissing as they tugged at each other’s clothes and headed toward the bedroom.

Chapter Eleven

“You’re cheating,” Emma said, hammering faster and then reaching for another wooden piece and one of the long nails.

Cam upended the bed frame he was putting together, and she couldn’t believe the king-size wooden frame was all but done, especially since she still had a pile of parts to secure into place. “How so? I’m even putting together the bigger bed.”

“Yeah, but mine has smaller, more complicated pieces.” This cabin was the largest, with the most bedrooms, and after Cam had helped her carry in the boxes, he’d offered to help. They’d decided it’d be easiest to put the bed frames together in the living room, where all the tools already were and there was more space to work, and somewhere along the way, it’d turned into a race to see who could finish faster. “Plus, you have longer legs, which means you can walk around faster.”

“Now I’m being punished for long strides?”

She laughed. “Not punished. Just…” A good way to finish the sentence didn’t come to her.

He squatted down next to her. “Called a cheater.”

“Exactly,” she said, shooting him a smile. They’d talked here and there at work the past few days, but their tasks had usually taken them in opposite directions, and she thought how much more fun work was when she got to do it while talking and laughing with Cam.

He grabbed one of the skinny branch-looking pieces that were going to make up the headboard from her pile and pushed it into place. His arm brushed hers, and his firm chest pressed against her back. “How many of these would I have to do for you to call it an even race?”

His breath skated across her neck, and she attempted to swallow. What she wanted to say was that he’d better do all of them in the name of fairness, especially if he was going to practically wrap his arms around her to do it, but she was trying
not
to flirt with him.

But then she glanced over her shoulder and noticed their lips were lined up, a mere inch or two between them, and every other thought flew out of her head.

Is he leaning in? I think he is…
She licked her lips, just in case, and she swore his eyes darkened.

Then Pete walked into the open doorway, his footsteps echoing through the room—she hadn’t even realized he was back in town, as he usually alternated about every other week, and he’d spent most of the last one at Mountain Ridge.

Emma quickly reached for another piece, trying to cover up the fact that she’d been about to jump the guy who owned the property they were working on, as that hardly screamed professional.

Well, not the kind of professional she was going for, anyway.

Pete did a double take at Cam, then he wiped his palms on his jeans and turned his focus on her. “Emma, can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” She set down her hammer and dusted off her hands, more out of habit than because they were dirty. Cam had already straightened, and he offered her a hand. Since she figured she could get away with letting him help her to her feet, she took it and stood, telling herself not to keep holding on, even though she wanted to.

After being in a bent position for so long, her knees complained and blood slowly worked its way back through her legs.

With the last few cabins framed, leaving only the small details that Pete usually didn’t deal with, she thought his role here was coming to a close. Hopefully he would give her a big shiny referral so she’d have more options when this job ended. “What’s up?”

Cam moved back over to the king-size frame, the light tap of the hammer filling the air as he went to work finishing it up. The sunshine coming through the window gave his profile a golden glow, and for a second she got caught up in admiring the rugged handyman look he had going on.

“I…” Pete took a deep breath, and then his eyes met hers, a flicker of…was that nervousness? “I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner sometime.”

Emma froze, acutely aware of Cam’s presence in the room. Was it her imagination, or did he start hammering with more vigor?

Vigor? Really, brain?
But now that she thought about it, “vigor” was a good word for Cam. Everything about him involved more of it, strength radiating from every inch of his large, muscled frame.

Snap out of it. Pete’s still waiting for your answer.
An answer she had no idea how to give, because giving an answer required knowing what it was. “Oh. I. Oh.”

Don’t glance back at Cam, don’t glance back at Cam.
She was an independent woman, after all, one who could make her own decisions. Well, after she took Zoey into consideration, of course.

Which made dating complicated. “Can I get back to you? As you know, I’ve got to think about Zoey, and—”

“Of course. If you can’t find a babysitter, we can take her along. I’ve been wanting to get to know you better outside of work, and Zoey’s such a great kid.”

Now she knew she wasn’t imagining it—the hammering was harder and louder, echoing across her skin and beating in time to her heart. The boss side of her wanted to turn and tell him not to drive in the nail too deep or it might split the wood, but she instinctively knew not to mention it at the moment.

“I…need to check my schedule.” Okay, so she could make her own decisions by deciding not to make one yet.

Pete surprised her by reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “Just let me know when you find a night that works. My other property is all but finished, so I’ve got to spend the rest of the week there, but then I’ll be back by the weekend, and I’m planning on being here more often than not until Mountain Ridge is open for business.”

Unsure what else to do, she nodded. Pete left, and she was scared to turn and look at Cam. She wasn’t sure if she was more scared to see if he was mad that Pete had asked her out or if he didn’t care at all.

Telling herself not to be a wimp, she turned to face him. His gaze was on the bed frame, and it looked like he was about to secure the final piece. She licked her lips, trying to decide what to say.

Maybe she should simply step up next to him and help finish the project. Or did she pick up her own hammer and resume the race so they could get back to joking?

“Emma?” Quinn stepped inside and blinked, probably experiencing that shift of going from the bright light outside to the dimmer interior. “Can I steal you for a minute?”

Emma glanced at Cam one last time, but he’d picked up another nail, and then he was hammering away again, his jaw tight, his muscles flexing with the movement.

Vigor, vigor, vigor.
Shaking away those thoughts, she followed Quinn outside the door and down the porch steps, their feet thumping against the raw, unfinished wood. The warm sun baked it, sending the scent of pine through the air.

Once they got to the next cabin over, Quinn held up a fan of paint swatches, several blue shades to choose from. “This is going to be the more family-centric cabin, so I want it to have a calm vacation ambience, but also maintain that mountain, nature feel. Which pops out to you?”

“Did you tell Pete to ask me out?” Emma blurted, her brain unable to play fifty shades of blue right now.

Quinn slowly lowered the swatches. “When I saw that he liked you, I hinted and encouraged, yes, but last week.
Before
I saw the chemistry between you and Cam on the dance floor.”

“We were just dancing,” Emma said.

“I was there, Emma. Sadie and I both noticed—in fact, we joked that it looked like we didn’t need to find you anyone anymore. Plus, everyone’s been talking about how cozy you two looked at the park together on Sunday.”

“Even if there is some…interest, he just got back, and having a kid together makes it more complicated, and my analytical side says it’s a bad idea. We need to get used to being parents together before we think about crossing any other boundaries.” It was so much easier to be logical without Cam in the same room. At the same time, she wanted Quinn to contradict her, and usually she hated when people did that, because she was right and they should just believe her.

“So, you’re what? Going to go out with Pete?” Quinn asked.

“I told him I’d have to check my schedule, like some kind of super-organized weirdo.”

“Well, you are a super-organized…let’s go with person instead of weirdo. But Pete is, too, so he probably thought it was hot.” Quinn shrugged and laughed, and Emma couldn’t help laughing, too.

But then the reality set in. Pete probably was a better match. She’d tried to be bold and not care about the rules once, and while she wouldn’t take it back because that night had given her Zoey, she’d also decided never to try to be someone else again.

The thought of choosing him over Cam, though? A heaviness entered her chest, not exactly what you wanted when considering a guy. Her heart fluttered over Cam, but she knew she needed her brain to weigh in, too, or she’d end up hurt. “Ugh, I don’t know what to do. Having Cam witness it all made it weird, too—”

“He was there when Pete asked you out?” Quinn asked, her eyebrows shooting sky-high. “Weird.” She opened her mouth then closed it, a contemplative crinkle wrinkling her forehead—she so rarely thought out what she was going to say before she spoke, and that made Emma nervous about what she was going to say. “You’ve got to admire Pete for having the guts to put it out there anyway.”

“Yeah. That was ballsy. Of course, I don’t think he knows that Cam is Zoey’s dad, either. If he’d heard the chatter you obviously have, I doubt he would’ve asked me out.” Emma sighed. “I have a feeling there’s going to be enough gossip swirling around without me dating the out-of-town architect. Without me dating either of them—not that Cam’s asked, just to be clear.”

And if he thought she was dating Pete, he probably wouldn’t. He’d already assumed it from the beginning, which was another sign that she and Pete matched up. Serious girl and serious boy.

But that pairing didn’t seem to go with her extremely girlie, energetic daughter. In some ways, having Zoey had made Emma more serious, because talk about heaping on responsibilities. But her daughter had also taught her to laugh when things turned out opposite of how you thought they would, and she’d also learned to relax her perfectionist tendencies, especially when it came to things like cleaning the house and cooking, which she was actually pretty good at when she took the time to do it. Why bother spending time on a gourmet dinner, though, when mac and cheese made your dining partner so much happier?

“Hold up the swatches again,” Emma said, not wanting to think about her dating life any more right now. It’d been so long since she’d had one that she didn’t know how to go about it, and it wasn’t like she’d ever been good at it in the first place. Besides, she’d just promised her grandma that she was focused on her career, and she didn’t want to do anything that’d compromise future jobs.

Quinn looked like she wanted to argue, but when Emma crossed her arms, she fanned them out against the wall. They debated a couple of swatches, throwing out the darkest and the lightest.

In the end they went with Ghost Ship Blue, because apparently that was a color. It wasn’t too dark, matched the pale wood, and wouldn’t overwhelm the rustic touches.

By the time they finished picking the rest of the decorations for the cabin, the crew was packing up. She headed back toward the cabin where she and Cam had been racing, hoping to catch him still there.

When she stepped inside, though, he was gone. The bed frames were, too, but a quick check of the rooms revealed he’d already moved them inside. She’d thought they’d each take an end and carry them in.

And now she was getting sad about work already being done when she had a to-do list a mile long.

So she grabbed her toolbox, which had been neatly packed up, and headed toward the beast. She hoped maybe she’d run into Cam on the way out…

He was nowhere to be seen, though, and she could only walk so slowly without being crazy obvious.

And as she fired up the loud engine of the work truck and started down the road, Emma told herself it was for the best.

But for some reason it didn’t work as well as it usually did.

Chapter Twelve

Cam listened to the voicemail Dad had left him and groaned—sure enough, news about Zoey had reached him. After his last parting shot at Dad, Cam had been hesitant to tell him about his newfound daughter, but he didn’t want Zoey to be a secret, like he was ashamed of her.

She was a great kid, not to mention so dang cute that he’d looked at her picture on his phone several times. But he was still worried about not screwing it all up, and throwing in more drama—which was inevitable where Dad was concerned—meant things would get messier before they got easier, and they were already tricky.

He thought about how close he’d been to kissing Emma earlier today. And how he’d wanted to charge over, grab that Pete guy by the collar, and tell him to stay the hell away from her.

He’d been damn close, too, despite trying to get his aggression out by finishing the bed frame, and it only reminded him that he sometimes struggled to control his temper.

What would Emma think if he lost control? She wouldn’t want to be around him, and she definitely wouldn’t want him around Zoey, and considering his temper, maybe they’d be better off.

Frustration rose, and he raked his hands through his hair. The official Mountain Ridge meeting with Quinn and Heath hadn’t exactly helped him calm down. They discovered that while Quinn had the personable side of the business down, as well as the food and housekeeping areas covered, and he and Heath had plans for the tours, everything from hiking to camping, snowmobiles, and horse rides, no one was very well equipped for the bookkeeping portion of the business. There were dozens of minor details—and then the major one involving figuring out the budget—and they were going to attempt to split them up, but it’d overwhelmed them all, he could tell, their first bump on the road to becoming entrepreneurs.

Cam glanced at his phone, telling himself he should call Dad back, but then he saw he had a new email, and checking that was easier. He grinned when he saw it was from Torres, his best army buddy, and the guy who’d been by his side through every mission, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Torres had been the one to absolve Cam for losing his cool the last time it’d happened, telling him they’d all wanted the information, and if he hadn’t been the one to snap and push the interrogation so far, Torres would’ve beaten the information out of the man they’d caught setting the roadside bomb himself.

While Cam had finally gleaned the information on where the group planned on attacking U.S. soldiers next, his yelling had been why his squad hadn’t heard the enemy approaching until they were right on them, which was why he’d never forgive himself. The rest of the guys insisted that Jones would’ve put knowing the location before more of their brothers in arms were killed above anything else, but it was hard for Cam to swallow, because Jones wasn’t here to say what he wanted anymore.

Trying to focus on all the good that’d been done with the information his squad had extracted, he opened the email and quickly read through it.

Torres had gotten hung up in transfers and said he was emailing while awaiting his flight home to Colorado. He asked about Mountain Ridge and when the tours would start, because he wanted to come visit and head to the mountains that Cam had talked so fondly about.

Then he ended with, “I’ll give you a call in a couple of weeks. I’m going to be busy with my girl for at least that long.”

They’d all given Torres crap for talking about his girl nonstop, and there’d been a lot of jokes about how whipped he was. The last time they’d been together, Torres had been telling them they were just jealous because his girl was so hot and constantly sending him care packages and then followed that up with the news that once he arrived back home, he was going to propose.

Cam had told him good luck with that—he’d sworn off relationships and said a big no thanks to marriage, ever—and Torres had ribbed him, saying he’d meet the right girl and end up eating his words. Cam couldn’t say that he’d completely changed his mind, but he knew Torres would get a kick out of his current situation, so he typed up the email about Emma and Zoey, and how even though he’d always thought a kid was the last thing he’d wanted, he found himself looking forward to the next time he’d get to spend time with her. He even confessed that after he got over his anger, he could kind of see Emma’s side, and told him that there was something different about her, and that honestly he couldn’t stop thinking about her—but not to get any ideas.

He was currently trying to smother the ones he was having.

As soon as he sent that off, the phone call to Dad couldn’t be avoided any longer. So he steeled himself and dialed the number, hoping that he’d get lucky and go to voicemail.

But Dad answered, and he knew his luck was just about the same as it always was. Pretty much nonexistent.

…

Cam had gone to the diner for dinner and ended up parked in front of Emma’s. For the past few hours, he’d told himself that she was probably better off with that scrawny Pete dude—he probably never freaking lost his temper.

A few people in town had eyed him as he’d eaten his meal, and he could tell they’d wanted to ask questions, but apparently he still had enough of a reputation for people to leave him alone. Everyone but Patsy Higgins, that was, but she hadn’t been around tonight.

He hadn’t meant to stop in front of Emma’s, only to slow down and give the place a quick glance. To check up on the house and verify that everything was secure. Then he thought that he should check her car’s oil since it was sitting out in the driveway, and make sure it wasn’t using too much. She’d told him it was driving so smoothly she could hardly believe it was the same machine, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He should probably talk to her about his dad, too. He’d put him off when he asked when he could meet Zoey, saying he needed to talk to Emma before making any plans, and they were trying not to overwhelm her. But it’d come up eventually…

He opened the door of his truck and started up the sidewalk. This visit was preventative maintenance, really.

He knocked on the door and was almost ready to give up when the door swung open. The first thing he noticed was the wet T-shirt and how he could see a hint of her lacy bra. So much for what he’d planned to say, because he forgot how to even speak for a second.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Zoey streaked across the room and ran over to Cam. He squatted and held open his arms, lifting her up when she made contact. His heart expanded as she wrapped her little arms around his neck. Her curls were wet, and she had her pajamas on, leading him to believe he must’ve just missed bath time.

“Throw me, Daddy.” Every time she called him Daddy, she wrapped him that much more around her finger.

He tossed her a few inches in the air—with Emma looking on, much more conservatively than after the mud puddle incident—and she giggled.

“Don’t get her all wound up,” Emma said. “I’m trying to calm her down for bed.”

“No bed!” Zoey shrieked.

Admittedly, for a minute, he was tempted to just give Emma the news that his dad had found out about Zoey and wanted to meet her and then hand Zoey over to Emma and leave her with the struggle of bedtime. But he figured that’d be a double jerk move. So he found himself once again in over his head, but diving deeper anyway. “How can I help?”

“I usually put on a video, but I’m trying to get her on a schedule in hopes the mornings will go smoother. I was about to read her a story and tuck her in.”

Story. That seemed easy enough. “I’ll do it.”

Emma glanced at the laptop on the coffee table and the stack of envelopes next to it. “That’d be awesome. Then I can take care of some of this paperwork. As long as you’re sure?”

“I got it.”

“Holler if you need me.”

Cam took Zoey back to her bedroom, where he got suckered into reading three stories, all tales with princesses, but her eyes finally drifted closed.

He crept out of her bedroom and closed the door, holding the knob and then slowly letting it go. The laptop and envelopes had been cleared, and Emma was digging something out from under the couch, her butt wiggling back and forth, and he took a moment to admire the view before announcing his arrival.

“Hey,” he said, and she drew up to her knees, a sippy cup in her hand. “She’s out.”

Emma glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes earlier than usual, too. Maybe this schedule thing will actually work.” She stuck the sippy cup on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch with a sigh. “I always wait for this moment where I can finally unwind from the hectic day, but I’m usually so tired I can hardly enjoy TV. But having you here to help…I’m plenty tired, but not at the brink of exhaustion.”

Cam moved over to the couch and sat next to her. “So I’m doing an okay job?”

She tucked her leg under her, spinning to face him. “You’re doing an amazing job—especially for how short of a time you’ve been doing it. You must’ve had some experience somewhere? Maybe Oliver?”

A pang of guilt went through him. “No. Since he came into the picture after I’d already left home, I barely know the kid. I should really make more of an effort. Growing up, I helped Heath as much as I could, but since there’s only a year and a half between us, I couldn’t do as much as I wanted to. Then I left as soon as possible, when I probably should’ve stuck around until after he graduated.”

“It wasn’t your job to raise him—and I can tell you two are close.”

“Yeah, it did make us close, I guess.” He reached up and ran his fingers over his jaw. “I missed out on Oliver, though. Missed out on two years of Zoey’s life, too.”

Emma flinched. “Again, that’s my fault.”

He put his hand on her knee. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know. But still.” A lightbulb seemed to go off, and she reached toward the end table, stretching far enough that a stripe of her creamy skin showed between her shirt and pants. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and glide his hands across it—more and more, the urge to touch her overwhelmed him.

The problem was, they couldn’t casually cross lines, not since they had a kid together. Anything they started would automatically be that much more serious, and that thought made him hesitate.

Emma spun back around, a large book in her hands. “I can’t change the past, but I can show you some of it.”

The booties on the front cover clued him in to the fact that it was a baby book. The first picture showed Emma in the hospital holding a tiny, pink, and sort of wrinkly baby Zoey.

“Who was with you?” he asked.

Emma ran her fingertips over the edge of the picture. “My grandma, and a really nice nurse who cheered me on.”

“What about after?”

“My mom visited briefly, and my grandma came over when she could, but she was dealing with some health issues at the time. The two-year-old stage is busy, but I’d take it over those first months of her crying all day and night, when I was here by myself, no idea how to take care of her. Those were some of the longest days and nights of my life—I thought they’d ever end.”

Even in the field, during the most hectic missions, he always had a team. He couldn’t imagine how alone Emma had felt. “I can’t believe you’d choose to do that alone.”

“At the time, I didn’t feel like I had a choice.” She glanced up at him. “Honestly, what would you have done if I’d emailed and told you I was going to have your baby? Would you have come home?”

He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’d be shocked at first. I’d probably also want proof she was mine—I know that makes me sound like a jerk, but it’s the first reaction.”

“I get that. As I’ve said before, you and I didn’t know each other that well. Or at all, really.”

“I remember you from school, though. You always had your hand up. Always had the right answer.”

A small groan escaped her lips as she brought her hands to her face and shook her head. Then she slowly dragged her hands down her cheeks before letting them drop in her lap. “Yeah. I was a
huge
nerd and super eager about it. I was so awkward. And pretty much all the things that make you unpopular in high school. I’m not surprised that you and I never hung in the same circles.”

“I’m sure you remember me as the town bad boy. My brother and I were blamed for every bad thing that ever happened.”

“That’s not how I remember you,” she said. Then she quickly turned the page, her attention going to the pictures. “This one’s from Zoey’s first day home.”

He grabbed her hand. “Uh-uh. You can’t just say that’s not how you remember me and then change the subject. Spill.”

“No way. I was awkward, and you were Mr. Cool, and all the girls wanted to date you. Let’s leave it at that.”

How was he supposed to leave it at that? “Did
you
want to date me?”

She dropped her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ear. He took that to mean yes, and it amused him to no end. Of course, back then he’d been stupidly wrapped up in Angie—not to mention overwhelmed with his crappy home life—and dealing with all the drama both of those things brought along with them. How different would his life be if he’d paid more attention to Emma? Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to flee.

Okay, now you’re getting carried away.
Besides, the army was good for him. He’d channeled his rage and learned skills to protect his country and the people in it. It helped him kick the rebellious streak that had pushed him toward slightly illegal activities, too, like underage drinking and hanging around guys who shoplifted and started using harder drugs that gave them even stupider than usual ideas.

He’d never regret his time in the army.

What he regretted was the one time he’d gone too far, focusing so much on the mission and extracting information that he’d let his anger free and his guard down, and then the enemy had found them, and all hell broke loose.

Then he’d had to drag two of his injured guys out, and one of them hadn’t made it.

“Cam? Are you okay?”

He shoved the bad memories away and looked up into her pretty face. “Yeah. Just thinking about how all of our decisions lead to places, some good and some bad, and how it doesn’t do any good to wonder
what if
.”